


Your Hot Whiskey Eyes Have Fanned the Flames (Let the Fire Breathe Me Back To Life)

by cardel



Series: Burn Everything You Love, Then Burn The Ashes [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, One-Shot, SPOILERS for ALL of season 3 as episodes air, Stand Alone, a wee bit of fluff very wee-lil, sort of but not really fix-it fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:22:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardel/pseuds/cardel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek’s vision is blurry; he must be on the verge of passing out, that is the only explanation he has for why he’s currently locking eyes with Stiles.  Derek closes his eyes in an attempt to clear his vision.  When he opens his eyes Stiles is still there.  Stiles is perched on the handrail of the escalator smiling down at Derek.</p>
<p>Derek groans, he’s hallucinating, he knows this because this Stiles has no scent and more noticeably no heart beat.  Derek closes his eyes to block out the hallucination.  However, just like the real Stiles his hallucination will not be ignored and begins to talk.</p>
<p>“Hey there Sourwolf,” he greets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Hot Whiskey Eyes Have Fanned the Flames (Let the Fire Breathe Me Back To Life)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by S3E05. Unbeta'd. Also posted to [my Tumblr](http://threwcautiontothewind.tumblr.com/post/54719619638/fic)

It would be so easy, Derek thinks, to just let it end here in this wreak of a room, in this cloud of dust and darkness.  All he has to do is nothing.  It would be so easy to just stop, to stop being responsible for anyone or anything, to stop worrying about the Alphas, his Betas, and even his sister. 

It would be so easy to just let his wounds keep bleeding, to keep himself from healing.  A sharp pain interrupts his thoughts as it shoots up his back and makes him cringe.  He closes his eyes and tries to take deep breaths. It hurts, everything hurts until it doesn’t.  His senses begin to feel muted. 

There is a chill settling deep in his bones with a numbness he’s learned to associate with unconsciousness.  Derek almost weeps with relief at this small mercy.   

Maybe he can find some warmth under the cold blanket of unconsciousness. Warm, like glowing embers, warm like whiskey sliding down his throat, warm like whiskey colored eyes. 

Stiles, he thinks frantically, eyes snapping open.  His breathing and heart rate speed up. 

If he lets go, he won’t only be letting go of the pain and his problems, he’ll also be letting go of the small moments of happiness he's recently found with Stiles.  Moments which are private, intimate and range from fingertips brushing against skin in reassurance, to hands touching bare skin, mapping it out like roads leading to home.   

Moments that Derek guards and keeps close to him.  Moments that are now the only thing keeping him from giving in to unconsciousness. 

Giving up now will mean giving Stiles up, Derek doesn’t want to give up Stiles.  In his current state, however, he’s not sure there is much he can do.  He’s already finding it extremely difficult to keep his eyes open. 

Derek’s vision is blurry; he must be on the verge of passing out, that is the only explanation he has for why he’s currently locking eyes with Stiles.  Derek closes his eyes in an attempt to clear his vision.  When he opens his eyes Stiles is still there.  Stiles is perched on the handrail of the escalator smiling down at Derek. 

Derek groans, he’s hallucinating, he knows this because this Stiles has no scent and more noticeably no heart beat.  Derek closes his eyes to block out the hallucination.  However, just like the real Stiles his hallucination will not be ignored and begins to talk. 

“Hey there Sourwolf,” he greets. 

Derek chuckles or tries but only ends up coughing up blood, pain flares throughout his body.  He takes a few deep breaths and opens his eyes.   Stiles is still there. 

"You haven’t called me that in a while," Derek rasps out, his throat dry. 

Stiles shrugs. "Well, you haven't been this sour in a while." 

It’s quiet after that the silence broken by his hallucination again.  “You know,” Stiles begins, tone casual, “I’m going to be incredibly pissed off at you if you die.  And then I’m going to figure out how to bring you back and kick your ass for dying in the first place." 

"You're too squeamish,” Derek reminds him. 

"Yeah, well, you're the exception to all my rules," Stiles confesses. 

"You're not real," Derek says to remind himself. 

“Maybe not but you know it doesn’t make it any less true.   It also doesn't change the fact you promised you'd be okay." 

"You should know by now, I'm no good on my promises."  If Derek wasn’t sure laughing would only result in him, literally, coughing up a lung, he would be doing so, hysterically, because he has officially gone crazy.  He is, essentially, having a conversation with himself but he figures, if these are his last moments, he’s glad to spend them with Stiles. 

"And there we go with the self depreciation. You may not believe and or trust yourself, and until I can enroll you in self improvement classes to fix that, I'll trust and believe in you enough for the two of us,” Stiles says.  

"I’m going to tell you a not so secret, secret.”  Stiles hops down from his perch to crouch close to him.  “You may be okay with letting yourself down but you’re not okay with letting me down. You promised me you'd be okay, make it so."  Stiles’ tone is flat, cold and matter of fact in a way the real Stiles would never speak.  A reminder, that this isn’t really Stiles but a hallucination. 

Even so, Derek wants to tell him that he wants to keep his promise more than anything but Stiles is speaking again. 

"If you keep me waiting too long, I’m just going to come looking for you and I know you don’t want that but who’s going to stop me?”  Stiles asks. 

A surge of panic seizes Derek.  Stiles will come looking for him and he will only end up finding trouble and getting hurt because of Derek. 

“Fuck,” Derek grits through his teeth.  His hallucination smile at him.  Derek closes his eyes tight. 

Derek swears he feels the soft touch of Stiles’ fingertips on his temple running down to his jaw before he feels a brush of lips whispering in his ear, “Get up Sourwolf.” 

When he opens his eyes Stiles is gone but in his place there is a burning need in his chest to see the real Stiles.  With a rush of adrenaline feeding his blood stream, Derek rolls onto his side, gets his knees under him and pushes up. He gives the Alpha wolf near him a dismissive look before he begins to move. 

He lets thoughts of Stiles anchor him.  Stiles will be so angry with him for getting hurt.  He will shout at him and over use his hands to show his displeasure with Derek, his cheeks will pink with his anger and his eyes will tear up but before that, before all the shouting and concerned anger, Stiles will hug him.  

Stiles will embrace him with a crushing force that will seem impossible for a human to have.   Derek will let himself be engulfed by Stiles’ and bask in the warmth of his embrace. 

On shaky legs, Derek begins to make his way out of the wreckage of the room.  In his head he hears Stiles urging him on. Every step sends shooting pain throughout his body threatening to bring him to his knees.  Derek is only able to keep going because he knows every step is taking him closer to Stiles.


End file.
